Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
The Misplaced Potter
Chapter 18
In which Henry discovers many things
Barbara Thane heard a slight groan from Henry. She and Madam Pomfrey quickly slid over to his bedside. After what he had been through it would be best if he saw something familiar and reassuring as soon as he was awake. Barbara perched herself on the side of his bed and took his hand in hers.
Henry's eyes fluttered then opened when he felt the warm, gentle touch on his hand. Barbara's smiling face beamed down on him as he became alert. Fear shot through him nonetheless.
"Easy, easy," Madam Pomfrey said soothingly placing a restraining hand on his chest. "You're safe. You're in the hospital wing. No one can hurt you here."
Warily, Henry eased back to his pillow.
"I'm not dead?" he asked.
"Don't sound so disappointed about that," Barbara replied lightly but was aghast that Henry seemed surprised that he was alive.
"Why?" Henry asked in confusion. "Why did they try to kill me?"
"Ah, dear heart, I wish I knew," Barbara answered.
"I never suspected Professor Quirrell was capable of such a thing." Madam Pomfrey added.
"It was him and Voldemort," Henry said.
"Voldemort!" the shocked women cried out in unison.
"His…his spirit anyway, I guess," Henry clarified. "He was living in Professor Quirrell's head. The turban hid him."
Barbara softly stroked Henry's forehead as she struggled to absorb what he had said. He had been through a traumatic experience but she felt certain that he was not delusional.
"Henry," she began carefully. "Are you absolutely sure that it was Lord Voldemort?"
Henry shrugged slightly. "That's what he called himself but I never seen a picture of him. Anyway, he was nothing but he was a red-eyed phantom. He sorta floated out of Professor Quirrell's body after I killed him."
"You killed Professor Quirrell?" Madam Pomfrey asked in surprise.
"I don't know how," Henry said huskily. "I didn't mean too. He was about to kill me but I jumped on him. When I grabbed him and he just burnt up."
Remorse overwhelmed Henry. He quickly turned his head as tears flooded his eyes. Barbara pulled him into a motherly hug as Henry began to sob uncontrollably.
Barbara rocked him gently allowing Henry to cry as much as he wanted. She silently prayed that the tears would wash away his pain but feared that it would be long time before Henry recovered fully. He had his trust vilely betrayed and his life nearly ended. Furthermore, he had blood on his hands. That the professor's death was unintentional did not seem to matter to the horror-stricken young boy. Barbara knew that the world would always be a little darker for Henry from now on. She vowed to do all that she could to ensure that he never lost sight of the light that was also present.
Eventually, Henry's crying subsided. He felt drained as if the tears had taken all of his energy with them. Barbara levitated a couple of pillows over to Henry's bed and eased the boy back on them.
Silently she handed him a box of tissues. She washed his face after he blew his nose.
"We have some orange juice here," she said handing him a mug with a straw in it.
"Can I eat?" Henry asked between sips of juice. "I'm kinda hungry,"
"I'm not surprised, laddie," Madam Pomfrey said. "You've been asleep for three nights now."
"Three nights. Really?" Henry asked in amazement.
"Sleep is the beginning of health," the healer quoted as she examined her young patient. Like Barbara, she feared far more for his mental recovery then his physical one. Indeed, the only reason to keep him in the hospital ward was to keep him from the barrage of questions that he may not be ready to answer or even face. The crying, while undoubtedly will be embarrassing to the boy when he thinks about it, was a good sign.
"Barbara, will you have a meal brought to our patient, please?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "Something light but with plenty of protein."
"I'll see to it ma'am," she replied.
"Or you may go to the great hall and eat if you feel up to it after the headmaster speaks with you," the healer added.
"I'll think about it, ma'am," Henry said, unsure if he was prepared to face a castle full of people yet.
"I won't push you out of the door," she said with a smile.
Madam Pomfrey looked over at Barbara. The teenager nodded in acceptance of the healer's silent request that she stay with Henry. Someone needed to be around so that he could talk about the events in the secret chamber instead of dwelling on them within his own mind.
"Now what?" Henry asked when Madam Pomfrey exited the ward.
"Now what what?" Barbara returned.
"Am I going to jail?" Henry asked apprehensively. "I didn't mean to kill Professor Quirrell but I don't know how to prove it."
Barbara chuckled. "No, you won't go to prison. Professor Dumbledore can draw your memory of the events from your mind. He'll be able to see what happened in a pensive."
"A pensive?"
Barbara had to explain to Henry how a pensive worked. He had not heard of the device. He was surprised to discover that others could view memories.
"So I give my memories instead of my word," Henry puzzled out.
"Yes, if you are willing to allow it but the sooner the spell is done, the better," Barbara said. "We have a powerful ability to alter memories as time passes."
"I'm more then willing," the boy replied. "I don't understand much of what happened. I mean, why me of all people? Maybe someone looking at what happened can explain it all to me."
"I suppose that you were simply the most convenient student to snatch," Barbara replied.
"I don't think so. Voldemort thought I was someone else," Henry said. "He called me Potter and claimed to have killed my parents years ago. He was living inside Quirrell's head but I guess he didn't pay attention to what the professor knew. Heck, the professor knew who I was."
Barbara gazed at her patient speculatively. The fact that Henry was adopted she knew. Maggie, who felt a kinship with Henry because of that among other things, had mentioned it to her. Conjecture as to the location of the Boy who Lived was rampant in magical Britain especially after he failed to arrive at Hogwarts this school year. Rumors had the boy dead, at Beauxbatons, living with some muggle relatives, in the care of the Ministry for Magic, and dozens of other possibilities. The Quibbler would run a new story every issue.
"What better place to hide a tree then in a forest," Barbara thought. "Henry, I believe Quirrell and Voldemort knew precisely who they had captured. It's you who doesn't know who you are."
"Who found me?" Henry asked, snapping Barbara out her reverie. "I would have thought that I would have gone missing for days down there."
"Professors McGonagall and Snape did," Barbara answered. "Maggie grew curious then worried when you failed to show up in the dorm and were still gone at supper. She went to her mum and when they couldn't find Professor Quirrell either, the staff launched a full-scale search. They must have had some suspicions because Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape headed for the third floor corridor immediately."
"I guess I own Maggie then," Henry said. "Er, can I get out of bed?"
"Sure," Barbara replied. "Do you wish to sit by the window?"
"I'd like to take a shower and use the lavatory," a blushing Henry said. "I can tell someone cleaned me up but I sorta still feel dirty."
"People often lose control of their bowels in an accident, Henry. It is nothing to be ashamed of," Barbara said guessing the source of his discomfort as she helped him out of bed. "From the looks of the room, that explosion tossed you a fair distance."
"I crapped my pants before that," Henry reluctantly admitted. He was wobbly on his feet but the broken ankle had healed properly. "I was trying to get away from Professor Quirrell but he stopped me with a spell."
A frowning Barbara asked, "What was this spell?"
Henry paused. His mind recoiled from the memory but he forced himself to think about it.
"Crucio," he finally said.
Barbara was shocked to the core of her soul. She held Henry firmly by both arms and peered intently into his face. "Are you telling me that Quirrell used the Cruciatus Curse on you, Henry?"
"I dunno," Henry replied bewildered by his friend's reaction. "I never heard of that one before."
Barbara pulled him into a powerful hug.
"No one should ever hear of it. It is one of the 'unforgivable curses.' The penalty for the use of one against another carries an automatic life sentence in Azkaban," Barbara explained with a savage edge to her voice. "By the moon and stars, Henry, if Quirrell wasn't already dead, I'd kill him myself for using that on you."
Henry was oddly reassured but also a little frightened at the vehemence of Barbara's reply. It made him even more aware of how evil were the hands that he had fallen into and highlighted how sheltered he now was. He felt truly safe for the first time since he awoke.
Barbara released him finally.
"The shower is behind that door there," she said pointing across the room. "Can you make it on your own?"
"I think so," Henry answered feeling the awkwardness leave his muscles as he took a few tentative steps.
"Very well then," she replied. "I'll send for Professor Dumbledore and see that you have some clothes up here when you're done."
Twenty minutes later, Henry was still luxuriating under a near scalding hot shower when a knock on the door brought his happily blank mind back to earth.
"Oy, cuz," Christopher said, entering the room. "I have some clothes for you."
Henry shut the water off and stepped out of the shower.
Christopher laughed closing the door behind him. "You're not a bashful one, are you? If I knew that you were going to leap out like that I'd brought in Hermione and Maggie."
"You probably tried, knowing you," Henry said as he toweled himself dry. "But being well mannered, well brought up girls they refused."
"Right on both counts," Chris replied lightly but then sobered up. "I'm glad you made it through alright, Henry. I'm still surprised that Quirrell was the one that tried to kill you. He always seemed afraid of his own shadow."
"The one who tried to kill me? What, do you think that I'm on the hit list of several teachers?" Henry tried to joke pulling on his clothes.
"No," Chris replied. "All the teachers seem to like you. Even Snape, from what you say, and he doesn't like anybody."
"Quirrell being a nervous Nellie was all just an act. He didn't even truly stutter," Henry continued. "Anyway, how did you hear about it? I would have figured that the headmaster would keep the whole thing a secret."
"Ghosts are everywhere in this castle, cuz, and they hear and see just about everything," Chris answered. "And they gossip more than any ten fishwives. Well, what else do they have to do, really? Probably everyone in the school knew what happened before they had you halfway to hospital."
"Probably not everything," Henry said remembering Barbara's shocked reactions to both Voldemort and the cruciatus curse.
"Not everything," Chris said slowly. "He didn't…uh…"
"No, Quirrell tried to kill me but he didn't do anything else," Henry reassured his cousin.
"That's good," Chris said in relief then paused. "That's sounds rather silly, doesn't it? You were nearly killed but not raped so that's good."
"I knew what you meant," Henry said.
Chris picked up where he left off. "If the headmaster could have kept it under wraps, I'm sure that he wishes that he had by now. This place has been crawling with Ministry officials, hysterical parents, and reporters all demanding answers from him. The rumor is that he's gotten more then a hundred howlers."
"Mom and Dad aren't worried, I hope," Henry anxiously said pushing his feet into his new boots.
"No, not much," Chris replied. "After Aunt Danielle saw what the healers were capable of last year when you were hurt, she trusts them completely. I am positive that the headmaster told her that you merely broke your ankle and left out any of the other details. I didn't say anything and it's not like our parents read the Daily Prophet after all."
Henry nodded. "It'll be great to see them again and to see that farm they bought with the money that Mr. Franklin left Dad in his will."
Chris laughed as he opened the door for Henry. "I don't know why you're here when all you are going to do is raise horses for the rest of your life anyhow."
"That is a good question," Henry acknowledged in absolute seriousness.
As she had done at St. Mungo's, Maggie ran across the room and pulled Henry into an ardent hug. She tried to speak but could only cry. Henry hugged her back with one arm and tenderly stroked her hair with his other hand.
"It's all right," he told her. "I'm okay. Thanks for raising the alarm for me."
Hermione leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"Thank goodness, you're fine." She said. "Physically, at any rate."
The kiss surprised Henry. It was an incredible display of heartfelt emotion by the very undemonstrative Hermione but her words intrigued him. Did they expect him to be quivering in a corner?
"Of course, they expect you to be a nut case," he mockingly thought to himself. "Admit it, Henry John, what else were you doing down there? And that crying jag you just went on. If there's any water left in your body, I'd be surprised."
"How are you feeling today, Mr. Porter," Professor Dumbledore asked. His voice was firm and steady but Henry could see the fatigue in his eyes.
"It must have been a rough few days for him," Henry thought. "What does Dad call it? Being nibbled to death by ducks. It wasn't his fault but that's the price of being in charge."
"I'm fine, sir," Henry said aloud as convincingly as he could.
The headmaster looked keenly at Henry over his half moon spectacles as if he was trying to gaze into the boy's soul and then at Madam Pomfrey. After a moment, he nodded his head sagely.
"Madam Pomfrey assures me that you have come through this ordeal better then could be expected. Once we are done here, you may leave the infirmary if you feel ready to face the world."
Henry took a deep breath. He knew that he would be a nine-day wonder as soon as he left the hospital wing. Everyone would mean well but he did not have the stomach to repeat the story a dozen or so times yet.
"If you are prepared, Mr. Porter," the headmaster began interrupting Henry's thoughts. "I'll draw out your memory of the events."
"Sure," Henry said. "What do I need to do?"
"Just think about what happened," answered Professor Dumbledore raising a glass wand to the side of the boy's head.
Henry started at the beginning when Professor Quirrell had asked for his aid. A blue spot appeared at the tip of the wand and like a mercury-filled thermometer on a hot day, the color expanded across the wand until the wand was a solid blue.
"Sir, I didn't mean to kill Professor Quirrell," Henry said sorrowfully when the headmaster took the wand from the side of his head.
A sad-eyed Professor Dumbledore place a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Henry," he began. "It is not you but me who needs to apologize. I placed you and every other student here in danger. Hogwarts is impregnable from any attack from without but in my ignorance, I invited evil within with nary a second glance. I thought that I knew Professor Quirrell but I was as wrong as I could be about his character. I can only say that I am truly sorry but I know how little that means."
"It was Voldemort that told Professor Quirrell to kill me, sir," Henry said.
"Voldemort!" the headmaster exclaimed as Maggie gasped.
"Yes," Henry replied. "He was living in Professor Quirrell's head."
The headmaster's bushy white eyebrows came together as he furrowed his brow in thought. Voldemort's involvement changed the complexion of the incident entirely. No longer was it a matter of a single teacher going mad. The Dark Lord was once again in Britain and he was well aware of the location of Harry Potter.
He glanced at the glass wand in his hand. Fudge would be a difficult man to convince but maybe watching Harry's memories could persuade him to take the actions needed to stop the rebirth of the death eater movement. If not, there were steps that he could take himself. He turned to leave the hospital ward. Harry stopped him with a question.
"Sir," he asked. "Why did Professor Quirrell burn when I touched him?"
Dumbledore raised the glass wand.
"Perhaps the answers are in here," he said as he walked out of the ward.
Six pairs of surprised eyes watched the professor's abrupt departure.
"That wasn't exactly helpful," Henry said a little hurt at the headmaster's lack of interest in his question.
"It was less then that," Hermione said. "It was a non-answer."
"Huh?"
"It was a way of replying without saying anything," Chris said. "It was just empty words. Mere air."
"The headmaster is a very busy man," Madam Pomfrey said coming to Dumbledore's defense. "And these last three days have been very trying for him. He feels very guilty about having been tricked into leaving Hogwarts leaving Quirrell free to make his move."
"Yes, ma'am," Chris said. It was not an apology but it satisfied the healer.
Barbara made a quick decision. It was obvious that Dumbledore was not going to be forthcoming. Henry had been through a rough experience. Keeping him ignorant as to the reasons behind it would only leave him on shaky ground, hindering his ability to get beyond it. Telling Henry about her speculations may upset him but she was confident that it would give him the understanding needed to lift him past the incident.
"What you need is some sunshine," Barbara said brightly. "How does a picnic lunch by the lake sound?"
A loud grumble from Henry's stomach gave one answer. His mind, however, had a reservation.
"I really don't feel like having people swarm over me," he said. "Even if they mean well."
Barbara smiled. "I didn't think that you would have but I can take care of that. Let me go to the kitchens and get a basket. I'll be back directly. Wait here for me if you would."
Thirty minutes later, she was leading the small party through Hogwarts via some rarely used side passageways.
"Where can we go where no one will find us?" Henry asked. "The whole school's probably outside on a day like this."
"There is a small, secluded meadow hidden by a hedgerow on the far edge of the grounds. A finger of the lake twists around there and the cliffs rise up beyond it. It will be warm and sunny but there are three ancient oak trees and a massive yew to provide all the shade needed," Barbara answered. "At this time of day, no one will be there."
Maggie giggled. "Not at this time of day."
"What's the joke," Chris asked, shifting the huge basket from one hand to another yet again. In irritation, Hermione grabbed one of the handles.
"Come on," Maggie replied. "Even first years have heard of Aphrodite's Grove."
Chris grinned widely. The astronomy tower was Hogwarts most popular make out spot but Aphrodite's Grove ran a very close second. More then once, Chris had returned to Gryffindor tower after a late study session only to wait to before the Fat Lady as some tired but broadly smiling older students picked grass and leaves from one another's hair.
"Why there?" Hermione asked, worried of the teasing they would get if their classmates found out that she had gone there.
Barbara pushed opened a small door and stepped out into the sunlight. Squinting her eyes, she did not see anyone one nearby. She hurried the party across a small expanse of lawn until a mulberry bush hid them. She then slowed her pace to a stroll.
"The grove suits Henry's needs, at the moment," Barbara finally answered. "It is a lovely but lonely spot which people avoid during the day for some reason or another."
"I could not help but notice that your steps are very sure in leading us to the grove," Chris joked roguishly as he eyed her bottom.
"And if they are?" The teenager archly asked over her shoulder.
"A man can dream, can't he?" a rakishly grinning Chris replied.
Barbara stopped walking. She seductively turned. She tantalizingly ran a polished fingernail slowly from Chris' Adam's apple to his chin. "Do you think that you're ready for the top division?" She purred.
The witty reply that Chris had in his head would not come out of his suddenly arid mouth. A dry croak was all that he could manage.
Hermione laughed ruefully at herself after a surge of envy.
"Well, what woman doesn't want to be a siren with the ability to turn men into jelly," she lightheartedly thought as she sat her end of the basket down. "Even a woman like me who wouldn't turn heads in a monastery."
"Barbara, you're only adding to Slytherin's wicked reputation," Maggie laughed aloud.
"Where did you learn to do that?" Hermione asked hoping she did not sound too curious.
"Trust me, Darling, every woman has it within her," she said with a wink.
Having stopped Chris' teasing, Barbara resumed the walk to the grove. Henry fell into step with her. Maggie and Hermione quickly followed, each wondering how to ditch the boys and have a serious talk with the older teenager. Chris brought up the rear carrying the basket by himself and trying to slow his heartbeat.
"Damn," he thought mentally laughing at himself. "What a girl."
Barbara carefully scanned the grove as soon as they passed the hedgerow. She even searched the branches of the trees and the sliver of a sandy beach. No one was there, as she had expected but she wanted to be sure. She did not need any prying eyes around.
The grove itself, for all of its notorious reputation, was rather small being slightly less then an acre and a half in size. In addition to the four large ancient trees, there were perhaps two dozen other smaller trees bordering a small meadow on three sides. A spring noisily poured from between two large boulders. It formed a streamlet that wound its way into an arm of the lake. Tiny fish darted in its shallow waters. A red squirrel chattered at a duck that waddled along the shoreline.
"How about by those rocks," she suggested pointing toward the spring.
Henry and Maggie quickly spread the blanket on the ground. A small feast emerged from the basket. Milk, sandwiches, crisps, pieces of fruit, and an apple pie rapidly disappeared. Conversation remained resolutely light, avoiding Henry's kidnapping. They talked about Barbara's NEWTS, her upcoming training as a healer, and the first formers own impressions of the past year.
"I grew up here," Maggie said. "But actually being a student was so much different. It was weird having mum as Professor McGonagall forpart of theweek."
"I always loved it when people forgot that she was your mother and started complaining about her in front of you," Chris said. "They always would turn the most interesting shades of red when they remembered."
"I miss my parents," Hermione said. "But truthfully, I wish summer break was a month shorter. This year has been so fascinating that I can hardly wait for next term to begin."
"The fun truly begins in the third year," Barbara said. "You get to add two classes of your own choosing and the Hogsmeade weekends start."
"Which two classes did you take?" a curious Hermione asked.
"Care of magical creatures and muggle studies," Barbara replied. "I knew that I wanted to be a healer since I was a little girl and while neither class is required for getting into the training programme at St. Mungo's, I thought that both would help sharpen my empathy."
"What do witches and wizards do for a living?" Chris asked surprised that the question had not occurred to him before.
Barbara laughed. "It always astonishes muggleborns but most magical folk have ordinary jobs. My dad's a farmer as were several generations of Thanes before him. The younger of my two brothers works with dad on the farm. Mum works in a daycare centre. My eldest brother is a helicopter pilot in the Royal Navy. There are after all a million or so of us in Britain. How many Ministry bureaucrats or wand makers can we have?"
"So, Henry," Chris said. "I guess that a wizard raising horses won't be that strange after all."
"Strange or not, that's what I want to do," Henry replied finishing off a bottle of milk.
Barbara tried to perform the spell discretely but Hermione's sharp eyes caught her subtle movements.
"What are you doing, Barbara?" she asked.
"I'm setting up a protective ward to keep busybodies from overhearing us," she replied. "It's a useful charm to know. You can ward your bed when you want to get to sleep in a room full of talking, giggling classmates. It can also keep noises within the confines of a small area which can be useful also on occasion."
"I can see where it would," Chris said evenly but his eyes danced. "You have learned a lot in your time here."
"Everyone gets the same information," the teenager replied putting on the final touches to the enchantment. "What separates the clever from the dullards is how far they take what they learn. If you can repeat the basics of what they taught you, you'll get your OWLs but to get the NEWTs you must be able to go beyond what the textbooks say."
Hermione found herself regretting that Barbara was not in her house. She could have learned a great deal from the older girl if she had had more access to her.
"I'm going to take the first year girls under my wing when I am one of the older students," she vowed. "The house system was supposed to work like that but none of the upper form students had given me more then directions to some room. Directions that were wrong half of the time."
Barbara looked at each of the young students in turn. Her expression was unreadable by any of the kids.
"Henry," she began. "Howfar do you truly trust these three? Don't look scandalized. Just tell me the truth."
The question surprised Henry but he recovered quickly
"I trust all three without reservation," he replied simply.
"I know the three of you love Henry," Barbara said to the others. "On that love, I'm asking you to keep the rest of this conversation locked away."
Barbara moved closer to Henry. She sighed as she took his hand in hers.
"Dear heart, I may be doing you a great harm but Ibelieve that I am doing the right thing. Forgive me if I am wrong. Maggie, there is a photograph below the false bottom of the basket. I snatched it from the trophy room on my way to the kitchens. Hand it here, please."
Maggie's eyes widened then frowned as she extracted the photograph. Wordlessly, she handed it to Henry.
"It's me," he said when he first glanced at it. "No, it's not. I've never worn a Gryffindor quidditch uniform. Is this a trick photograph of some sorts."
"No, it's not," Barbara said. "The boy is James Potter. While he was here at Hogwarts, he was seeker and captain of the Gryffindor house team. He was also Head Boy. After graduation, he married the head girl and together they became two of the foremost fighters against Lord Voldemort. They were killed by Voldemort nearly twelve years ago only three months after their son was born."
Henry passed the photograph to Chris then leaned back slightly as his cousin and Hermione bent their heads over the picture. He stared at the group through narrowed eyes. He could tell by the expressions on the faces of his fellow first formers that the Potter story meant more to them did it did Henry. He had yet to read any of the history books that his cousin had bought.
"I take it that you think that I'm that son?"
Barbara shrugged. "I am not absolutely certain but I am as close as I can get without doing paternity tests. It would explain why Professor Quirrell kidnapped you. Has anyone ever called you Potter besides Voldemort?"
"Professor Snape did," Henry answered after some thought. "And that wand maker in Diagon Alley. Both said it was a slip of the tongue on their part but why would anyone care who my birth parents were?"
"Henry, it's not your birth parents that they are interested in," Chris said looking up from the photograph. "It's you. According to Modern Magical History, the three-month old Harry Potter survived a Voldemort killing curse. Voldemort, himself, was all but destroyed when the curse rebounded on him."
"If you are Harry Potter," Hermione said. "Then you're the boy who lived, probably the most famous wizard in Britain."
"Don't forget that Snape was asking me about you also," Chris reminded his cousin.
Henry rubbed his chin in thought. It was tempting to believe Barbara's theory just to give some order to what had seemed like a random event. He had known since he was seven years old that he had been adopted. Unlike some other adopted kids that he had known, Henry had no curiosity about his birth parents. Mom and Dad were Danielle and Robert Porter who loved him and cared for him. What could a total stranger offer him that was better then that?
"What do you think, Maggie?" Henry asked.
She bit her lower lip. Some oddities about their holiday to America were popping up in her mind.
"I thought it curious at the time but mum put a subtle stress on the fact that I was her adopted daughter which she never does when we first arrived at your house in Kentucky. A lot of the conversation thatour mumshad while we were waiting for you and your dad to arrive back at your house centered on being adoptive parents. I just thought that it was a way to put your mum at ease with two strangers but mum might have been fishing for information."
"Granddad found me in a basket on his doorstep," Henry said. "There's not much to tell anyone."
"No one leaves a baby on a doorstep," Hermione said in disbelief.
Chris laughed. "It's part of the family lore, Hermione. Great Uncle Simon loves telling about it. He says that it was his favorite case because he made his niece very happy and he avoided going to jail for the shenanigans he pulled to make it happen."
"The boy who lived completely disappeared," Barbara said. "Being adopted into a muggle family with no connects to the wizarding world would have been a perfect way of doing that."
"Fairly dicey, if you asked me," Hermione said. "Just dropping a baby off on a doorstep and hoping for the best. Henry could have ended up with some horrible people instead."
"Who was James Potter married to," Henry asked.
"Her name was Lily Evans but I don't know what she looked like," Barbara said. "But you really don't care, do you?"
Henry turned his hands up. "I don't mean to be callous but what are they to me? A photograph? A name that someone speaks? My parents are Robert and Danielle Porter. I'm Henry Porter. I'm happy as Henry Porter. Why should I become someone else."
"Because Harry Potter has some serious enemies," Barbara pointed out. "They don't give a damn what you call yourself. You are Harry Potter to them and they will be coming after you as Voldemort and Quirrell just proved."
Henry leaned back against the boulder. There were days that it just did not pay to get out of bed even if you had been asleep for three nights. He closed his eyes and willed his mind empty. He concentrated on the noise of the spring falling across the rocks and splashing into the streamlet.
"Henry?" Barbara asked curiously.
"Just leave him alone for a bit," Chris said. "He's thinking about the problem."
"He's done this before?" she asked, amazed at how easily Henry had slid into a trancelike state.
"Sure, I've seen him do it two or thee times before," Chris assured her. "If something is bothering him, click, he turns out the lights but when he comes around he has an answer to his problem."
They left Henry to his meditations. Quietly they cleaned up the picnic leftovers. After the debris was gone, Chris walked down to the water's edge. The girls strolled under an oak tree and had a quiet, frank discussion about some aspects of sexuality that neither girl's mother touched upon during "the talk." Maggie and Hermione had not known what potent force femininity could be and how far beyond sex that it went.
Chris saw Henry as his cousin stood. He skipped one last rock across the water before heading over to him. He arrived beside Henry at the same time as the girls.
"So?" he asked directly.
"The man with the answers would be Professor Dumbledore," Henry said.
"Well, duh." Chris retorted. "Let's go to his office."
"No," Henry said with a shake of his head. "Voldemort said that I was Dumbledore's greatest weapon. If so, then Dumbledore has need of me and the price of my cooperation will be those answers. He will summon me when he needs me and we'll do some horse trading then."
"But don't you want to know for sure if you're Harry Potter or not?" Hermione asked.
"I know who I am," Henry replied. "What name I was born with makes no difference in that."
Barbara wanted to do a cartwheel in pure joy. The nearly shattered boy of a few hours ago was gone. A resolute young man stood before her. She had made the right decision.
"So now what?" Maggie asked.
"Shall we join the rest of Hogwarts in celebrating the end of classes?" a smiling Henry asked